Choices, Choices, Choices
by Etrixan
Summary: Oneshot: Dean and Sam are asked to make a difficult choice but it’s kind of hard to say no to God, even when saying yes can destroy everything. Takes place during 5.01.


**Title**: Choices, Choices, Choices**  
****Summary**: Dean and Sam are asked to make a difficult choice but it's kind of hard to say no to God. Takes place during 5.01.  
**Characters**: Dean, Sam, Joshua  
**Disclaimer**: I write these stories for fun and enjoyment, not profit. All rights remain with the license holders. Thanks go to Supernatural Wiki because some of the dialogue was taken from the episode transcripts they maintain.  
**Status**: Complete  
**Rating**: PG for language

* * *

The pain was excruciating. Between the burning light and the piercing noise, Sam felt like he was being shredded over a barbeque. They'd given up trying to bang their way out. The door was old oak—solid even though Lucifer's arrival was tearing chunks out of it.

They were going to die, Sam realized. They were going to die and, maybe, this time it would be permanent.

Then everything stopped…

...

The first thing Sam noticed was the smell; rich, damp earth. It reminded him of a forest, like the ones in the north western states which was so far from the dusty mould smell of the abandoned buildings in Ilchester that it actually left him dizzy. The cool, moist air was refreshing and unexpected, _very _unexpected. It felt nice against his skin but, again, it was strange and this time he realized that it could contain a threat. Sam snapped his eyes open and all he could see was green—dark green, pale green, light filtered through green, dark green shadows—just green.

He looked around and there was Dean, just coming out of his crouch and looking around with the same 'what the hell?' look Sam was sure he had on his face. But still, his brother was here, with him, so he could let go of that worry.

Of course that made room for a whole new set of worries. Where were they? How did they get here? Were they even alive? Was this some kind of trick? What the hell had just happened?

He looked at his brother and Dean looked back at him, and Sam knew they had the same questions. Dean moved his mouth. Sam couldn't hear what he said, but he could follow Dean's pointing finger... to see a tall, Native American man right on top of them. The stranger placed two fingers on each of their foreheads and then stepped back.

The return of his hearing was like a physical sensation, and Sam staggered where he crouched which would have been embarrassing except that he saw Dean doing the same thing. Now he could hear birds and insects and the wind rustling through the trees. This was a living place then. That was good to know, but still...

"What the fuck?" Dean voiced Sam's thoughts.

"Dean and Sam Winchester," said the stranger in a voice deep and gentle. "Welcome to the Garden."

"The garden?" Dean asked, looking around. He was standing up, slowly, testing every movement. Sam followed suit. "Looks more like a wilderness to me."

"Wait," Sam held up a hand, "When you say 'garden' do you mean, like, the 'Garden of Eden' garden?" Dean looked at him in shock.

The golden-skinned stranger chuckled shortly, "To some it appears that way but no; this isn't _that _garden. It is the centre of Heaven. Its heart, if you want to call it that."

"We're in Heaven?" Sam asked, stunned.

"So we're dead?" Dean said at the same time.

"Come. I'll explain while we walk," said the guy as he matched action to words. "Yes, you are dead. It's a better way of talking to you than radios or TVs, more precise. Yes, you are in Heaven. I have been given a question to ask you."

"And you are?" Dean asked. His tone was distrustful and slightly insolent. Sam couldn't blame him. If this was Heaven then the guy ahead of them was an angel and their luck with angels hadn't been too good so far.

"My name is Joshua. I work here tending the Garden." Sam looked around the woods. Dean did the same. "Everyone sees something different here. To you it's Blackwater Ridge in Colorado. Next time it'll be something different."

Sam stopped, "Blackwater Ridge?" He turned to his brother in shock but Dean looked just as baffled. "That was, what, five years ago?"

"It's a good choice. After all, here is where it began in earnest."

"When what began?" Dean interrupted, striding forward to catch up to the light-footed angel. He brushed his hands against the leaves and the tree trunks as they passed, almost like an afterthought.

Joshua ignored him. "Before this point, it was all possibilities. Yes, Azazel was trying to force Sam onto a path but you could've turned aside, chosen something else, but here you took the first steps in the journey that led you both to the convent in Ilchester."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, uncomfortable with the reminder of what he had done. It was too close to what Ruby had said, when he realized that she'd tricked him, that he'd let himself be tricked. _It was you... and your choices. I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time. _"Is this my fault?" he asked desperately. Dimly he heard his brother say his name, trying to protect him from painful truths once again.

Joshua stopped and turned to face them fully. "Castiel once told Dean that it wasn't blame that fell on him—it was fate. The same applies to you, Sam Winchester."

They were meant to be kind words, maybe, forgiving but they didn't help. The scope of Ruby's betrayal, of Sam's stupidity, was too deep for words to encompass—and certainly too big for mere words to forgive. Sam swallowed back his guilt, trying to keep shame-filled tears from falling.

"I don't believe in destiny." Dean scoffed at the angel, pulling his attention away from where Sam was struggling to bring himself back under control.

"And that, too, is a choice." Those deep, dark, _knowing _eyes focussed on the older Winchester. "Angels have no souls. Did you know that?"

"I've seen The Prophecy," Dean replied. Sam caught his concerned gaze and gave a small nod. He wasn't great but he wasn't going to fall over yet.

"Souls give humans the ability to love, to hate and everything in between. It gives them their conscience. It gives them free will. Angels don't have that." It was said calmly, as if it were of no concern and Sam realized that Joshua didn't care that he didn't have a soul or any of the stuff that came with one. The angel turned back to his path and resumed walking. "Who was it who said 'the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result'?"

"Einstein," Sam answered.

"By that definition angels are insane. Without God's direction, the choices we can think of, the actions we can take, are limited by our nature. Destiny is real for us because all destiny is, is repeating what we've done before." Joshua waved them to one side of the trail, leading them toward a fallen tree. "Like now."

"The apocalypse has happened before?" Sam asked. Joshua stood in the middle of the clearing, comfortable in the skin he was wearing. Dean was leaning against a huge tree trunk that was busy rotting, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. Sam stood somewhere in between, closer to his brother but unable to settle.

"Many times," the angel confirmed, "but this time God's going to try something different."

Dean shifted slightly. "What has that got to do with us?" It wasn't as much a request for information as a raising of defences.

Sam hadn't had a chance to talk to Dean about what his brother had been doing while he'd been acting as Ruby's tool, but he had the sudden belief that it had to do with angels jerking Dean's chain. Again.

"Do you know how many choices you both made to bring you to this point?" When they opened their mouths to respond, the angel held up a hand to stop them. "Not just the big decisions." He looked at Dean, "Staying with your father instead of building your own future; making the deal for Sam's life; accepting Alistair's offer in Hell." He looked at Sam, "Leaving your family behind; choosing to pursue vengeance for Jessie's death, for Dean's; listening to Ruby, following her."

The angel had a small smile on his face as if these decision had been easy to make and easy to live with and Sam wanted to punch him, except his chest hurt. Then Sam realized that he was holding his breath because he wanted to feel angry because anger was easier than shame, but he couldn't get beyond the shame of what he unleashed on the world. And passing out now wouldn't change anything, he told himself. He dragged in a shaky lungful of air. He couldn't look at them, either of them, so he was grateful when Joshua continued.

"Those were big decisions, life altering, world changing, but they weren't the only ones that led you to that convent. Every time you _saw _instead of looked, each time you _listened_ not just heard, each moment chosen to be remembered instead of just experienced, all those choices brought you here."

"Those aren't choices," Dean protested.

"Yes they are, because what you choose to see, hear and remember, affected how you made those big decisions," Joshua countered. "Most humans don't even realize they're making choices. Just like you didn't."

Dean sneered at the answer that answered nothing, "New age-y bullshit."

The angel smiled a small, patient smile with not even a hint of condescension. "What do you remember of your childhood, Dean Winchester? Is it what your brother remembers? Probably not. Not even when you think of the same event."

Sam put out a hand to stop the argument—he could do without theoretical psychology today—and asked the pertinent question, "What has that got to do with us?"

"Lucifer has gotten out of Hell before," Joshua said in response, "and Michael has always sent him back. Nothing changes, nothing's resolved and the cycle begins again."

"The definition of insanity," Sam muttered.

"But this time's going to be different," Dean said in disbelief. Joshua nodded. "Why? How?"

"Because they've agreed to abide by the choices _you _make." The angel looked between them making sure he had their full attention, which of course, with those words, he had... completely. "If you agree, you two will be their surrogates. If you chose to fight, they'll fight. If you choose peace, they'll shake hands. If you chose something else, they'll do that instead."

By the time Joshua had finished speaking, Dean was up and standing next to Sam and they were both staring at the angel. "Are you shitting me?" Dean demanded. "We're" he flicked his finger between the two of them, "going to decide the fate of the world." Joshua nodded. "Then it's no fucking contest. They kiss and make up right now?"

"It's not that easy."

Dean rolled his eyes, shoulders tensing, and Sam put a hand on his arm to keep him calm. "Why isn't it that easy?"

"Because what's between you and your brother has to mirror the way it is between Lucifer and Michael as much as possible. And they don't get along," the angel's voice was dry.

"Last time I checked, our relationship was pretty fucked up," Dean said and Sam could only nod.

"Not enough," Joshua replied. His voice, although gentle, was implacable.

"How much worse can it get?" Sam demanded, bitterness burning like acid inside him, "Dean thinks I'm a monster."

"No I don't."

"Yeah, you do. Remember the phone message?" Sam turned on his brother, the anger and betrayal he'd felt upon hearing that message rising up to catch in his throat. "You called me a bloodsucking freak. You said you were going to kill me."

"The fuck I did. You're my brother. I'd never say that."

"But it was on my voice mail." Sam was standing toe-to-toe with Dean. He knew what he'd heard: he'd heard his brother say it was over for good.

Dean was frowning, staring at Sam, not backing down from his anger but just trying to figure it out. Suddenly his brow lifted. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, "Zachariah." And then Dean moved away, leaving Sam in control of the field, the winner.

"What?" The change was too abrupt to process.

"Zachariah, Castiel's boss, another dick," Dean explained, "He said you needed a nudge and that they'd make sure you got it. You listened to that message just before you went in to kill Lilith, didn't you." It wasn't really a question. "They changed it so that you'd do what they wanted."

"They changed the message?" Sam wanted to believe it was true but... the fight in the motel room, everything that had happened before that.

On the other hand, if Dean had thought he was a monster, why had he taken the knife to Ruby and not to him? "They changed the message. Bastards!"

"Fucking angels," Dean agreed, "I'm really starting to hate them. So why should we make their lives any easier: Michael's and Lucifer's or any of those sons of bitches?" He turned his burning green gaze on the angel.

"Because if you don't billions of humans will die," Joshua answered serenely as if he didn't care which, considering what he'd said about angels having no souls, he probably didn't.

"So, if we go along with this, nobody gets hurt?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

Joshua was shaking his head before Sam finished talking. "I won't lie. People will die while you work this out. It can't be helped but people die all the time. Death _is _a normal part of life... for most people." Joshua smiled at his own joke. Sam didn't think it was funny.

"How many?" Dean's voice was hard. "How many will die?"

"If you agree? Fewer than would die if you don't. It depends on the choices you make and not even God can predict those."

Dean turned away. "Great, just fucking great," he muttered.

Sam's eyes followed him in concern even as he asked the angel another question, "So what is it we'd have to do?"

"Be yourselves," the angel answered in his deep voice, "Be exactly what your lives and your histories have made you."

He turned to his older brother, "That sounds easy enough."

"Yeah, too fucking easy," Dean replied quietly. He raised his voice, "Do we have a choice here?"

Joshua smiled indulgently, like some kind of Yoda. "Of course you do. You have three choices," he held up a finger, "You can stay dead, remain here in Heaven, and Lucifer and Michael will do battle on Earth."

"What happens to Earth?" Sam asked

"It will be nearly completely destroyed. Most everything will die," he answered before raising a second finger. "You can return to the convent and let _that _scenario play out."

"And what does that mean?" Not that Sam wanted to hear it really.

"Most likely, Dean will die and Lucifer will take you as his true vessel and over run the world."

"Shit," Dean cursed.

Sam ignored it, "Lucifer needs a meat suit?"

"Of course," Joshua replied, "He _is _an angel. Those _are _the rules."

Sam had forgotten that Lucifer hadn't started out as the devil. Joshua's explanation made sense then but the idea that Satan wanted inside his body, taking it over like Meg had done so long ago, made him want to throw up. It had been one of the worst sensations he'd ever experienced; watching himself do things and not being able to stop it. And that had been with a mere demon. What would it be like to have the Devil riding around in his skin?

"And option number three?" Dean asked, breaking up Sam's thoughts. Sam would hug him later.

"God returns you to earth safely as representatives of Lucifer and Michael, and they each do their best to convince you to let them take you over so they can do battle."

"Wait. If Sam's Lucifer's vessel, then who's Michael's?" Dean's eyes were once again narrowed suspiciously.

"You, of course, but you already guessed that." Joshua was smiling again, all patient and zen-like, and Sam could tell it was starting to piss his brother off.

"Son of a bitch," Dean took an aggressive step forward. Sam put a hand on his chest stopping him.

"We'd have to say yes. Jimmy had to say yes to Castiel, remember?" Sam reminded him, "If we don't say yes, they can't get in."

"What would happen then? Do they just go ahead without us and destroy the world anyway?" Dean said demandingly, wanting a straight answer.

"If you don't let them fight, then they're not supposed to fight."

Sam could practically hear Dean's teeth grinding. He pushed his brother back a couple paces, "Dean, we can work with this. We can. We just need to figure out a strategy." Dean glared up at him but Sam didn't take it personally. Dean was just pissed at being manoeuvred into a corner again—at being given part of the story but not all of it, not the finish.

Sam remembered that, as a kid, Dean had always wanted happy endings even when he hadn't believed in them.

"You said our relationship had to get worse," Sam kept his hand on his brother, "How much worse?"

The smile fell away from Joshua's face, "A lot." There was no peaceful superiority, no serene acceptance, just sorrow, deep and all encompassing. "You have a strong bond, one of the strongest we've seen but we're not sure it will survive this, even if you do."

"So we might get killed doing this?" Dean stated belligerently.

"You already have been," Joshua pointed out, "Many times." Sam saw when that little truth penetrated his brother's anger and he backed down a little. Dean could be unreasonable but he was rarely irrational.

"You say it's going to 'get bad' but what does that mean exactly?"

For the first time, the angel looked unhappy with what he had to say. "You, Sam, will have Lucifer's pride and anger. Dean will have to experience Michael's sense of betrayal and his despair. Each of you will have to be filled with those emotions. Anger is full of energy and power. Despair is a type of living death. If you aren't careful those emotions will swallow you up, subsume you until their emotions are all you are." Sam shifted nervously. Dean stepped closer to him, both to offer support and to receive it. "This is why your own relationship may not survive," Joshua finished.

"I thought angels can't feel emotions," Dean pointed out.

"They can't," Joshua agreed, "but they can suffer from them just the same."

At that oxymoronic statement, and Dean's resulting growl of frustration, Sam decided it was a good time to drag his brother away to discuss the situation, make a decision they could maybe live with. Hopefully. "What do you think?"

Dean lowered his voice, "I feel like I'm being played again."

Sam nodded in agreement. "No matter what we do, someone's going to lose."

"Yeah. Either us or the whole fucking world," Dean finished the thought. Sam could only sigh. Dean took a quick look over his shoulder at the patiently waiting angel and pulled Sam a couple steps farther away. Dean looked up at him, eyes vulnerable, soul stripped bare. "This past year... it sucked. I mean, it sucked fucking _hard._ I don't want to go through another year like that let alone one that's worse."

"Dean—" Sam started.

"I couldn't save you, Sammy." There was a catch in Dean's voice that made Sam shift uncomfortably, made him feel like he'd failed which, maybe he had, but it wasn't _Dean's_ fault that he hadn't been able to save Sam from himself. It wasn't even Dean's responsibility any more, which was a weird thought, because Sam had always been his brother's responsibility, ever since the fire or maybe, especially since the fire. Like a book opening Sam realized something—he couldn't be Dean's little Sammy any more. He couldn't. Dean's little Sammy was innocent in ways Sam could never be again and it was asking too much of his brother, and himself, to try and stay in that box.

"You don't have to save me, Dean," he said slowly. "You don't have to protect me... not like you used to. I'm not a little kid now. I mean, I'm still your brother, I'll always be your brother, but I'm not your 'baby' brother." He watched Dean try to process it, to understand the difference. "You have to let me take responsibility for myself. You have to let me grow up."

Dean, who'd been looking mulish at Sam's statements, snorted derisively, "Let you? I couldn't stop you. You're a fucking sasquatch."

It was a classic Dean-avoidance technique so Sam didn't laugh with him, even though he was always secretly delighted that he was the tallest Winchester. "You know what I mean." He set his face in stern lines and waited for his brother to accept this new reality.

Dean did what he always did when forced to change. He squinted at nothing. He pulled his lips in, chewing on them a couple times. He looked at Sam, eyes serious and assessing and then, finally, Dean nodded his head, quick and sharp. "Okay. Okay, we can do this," he said, "We'll figure out a way to come out the other end as us. We know what's at stake; we can figure it out."

"Boys," Joshua called, interrupting them. "I have to tell you; if you choose to go back, you won't be allowed to remember this conversation."

"You're listening in?" Dean said, annoyed at the angel's snoopy behaviour.

Joshua shook his head. "I'm not. _He _is. And He told me to tell you, you can't go back knowing what's at stake and what's required of you."

Oh shit, Sam thought. Out loud he asked, "Why not?" Although he had a good idea of what the answer would be."

"Because you'll react differently, you'll think differently, you'll choose differently than you would if you knew nothing." Dean opened his mouth to object but Joshua just looked at him and there was something in the angel's eyes that shut him up. "You can't know it isn't real," Joshua added firmly, "They'll consider it cheating and feel free to cheat as well."

Sam turned to Dean because this had just gotten infinitely harder. He saw a kind of hopeless acceptance in his brother's eyes and knew that Dean was right There weren't any good options here? If they backed out now they condemned millions, if not billions, to early death. How were they supposed to live with that... when they'd been trained all their lives to protect the innocent? John Winchester's original motive in becoming a hunter might have been revenge, and, yes, his youngest son had fallen into that same trap but not Dean, not really. John's oldest son might have had some of that drive, but underneath it had always about helping people, saving them from the things that go bump in the night.

There was no bigger 'bump' than Armageddon.

In the end there was no choice. How could they say no to God?

"We'll go back," Sam said at last, "let our minds be scrubbed and act as Michael and Lucifer's avatars, but they haveto live with our choices: no welching, no hedging, no funky interpretations. We decide and _they _abide."

"They've already agreed—"

"I don't want _their _word—I want _His_. This whole year we've lived with the angels weaselling their way around the truth, trimming their promises like politicians after an election. If Michael or Lucifer try to wiggle their way around what we've decided, then God has to step in and _make _them live by it."

"Fuck yeah," Dean whispered, coming up to stand beside him. "Good call, Sammy."

The angel looked at him as if he couldn't believe Sam was doubting his brothers' honesty, and Sam could hardly believe it either, but this was too important. This could ruin everything because he might never get his brother back. They might never be able to rebuild what they'd had, build it into something better, because of the angels. So he braced himself against Joshua's disbelief and forced himself not to take it back.

Eventually, Joshua's eyes assumed that distant look that Sam always associated with people on a long-distance phone call who were concentrating on hearing every word. It was a good sign. It meant the angel's attention was somewhere else. However, the longer it took for Joshua to respond the more anxious he became. A glance over at Dean revealed that he was feeling the same uncertainly that Sam was.

"Last chance, Sammy," Dean said, reading Sam's mind. "We could stay here and be safe."

"Could you live with that; us being safe while millions die?" Sam asked back.

Dean tried to joke, "We wouldn't have to live with it. Did you forget we're already dead and in Heaven?"

Sam just looked at him, "So we spend eternity saying 'what if' and 'if only'? That's not Heaven, Dean. I'm pretty that would be a circle of Hell." Dean did his little shrug thing so Sam knew his brother agreed with him.

Before they could go another round of second-guessing themselves, Joshua's attention came back to them. "He agrees. He'll make sure his children do what as they promised. He's also decided to send someone with you. Someone who has his own path to take but can also make sure Michael and Lucifer don't get too... enthusiastic in their attempts to persuade you. He won't know he's God's conduit but that's what he'll be. Be kind to him. He is young and innocent still.

"Cas? He's giving us Cas?" Dean said surprised and pleased and Sam wondered what had happened to change Dean's mind about the geeky-looking angel.

Joshua just smiled in response. He straightened and held out his hands, palm up, in a posture that seemed ritualistic. "You have been given God's promise that your actions in the coming months will have his blessing, that he will back your decision and make sure it's enforced. That being so, do you agree to act as the agents of the Michael, the Archangel, and Lucifer, the Fallen One; to follow the path of their history until the final moment when you, and only you, will decide the fate of the world?"

Sam took a deep breath. Dean shifted his weight back and forth. They shared a look of 'what the hell have we got ourselves into this time' and then they both turned to face Joshua—who spoke for God. "We agree," they said at the same time, voices overlapping, speaking as one.

"As it is said, so shall it be." There was a resonance to his voice that hadn't been there before. As if something, or some_one_, was augmenting it. It had weight beyond what any sound should have.

Joshua's face filled with a sad smile, "I don't envy you."

"I don't envy us either," Dean muttered and Sam resisted the urge to shuffle his feet like a little kid on the first day of school.

The angel stepped close and raised his hands, fingers extended, to their foreheads. "Go with God, boys," he whispered, "See you again soon," before touching, pressing, sending them back and away. Sending them down, down, down...

...

The pain was excruciating. Between the burning light and the piercing noise, Sam felt like he was being shredded over a barbeque. Then the light faded and the only noise was the dim hum of air conditioning and the sounds of people moving in a confined space.

One voice cut across the rest asking, of no one Sam could see, "What the devil's your name?"

"Sa-Sa-Sa-Sa-Yo-Yosemite Sam."

'What the hell?' he thought.


End file.
